I Get It
by CrazyAssFangirl
Summary: This isn't a fanfiction. This is me trying to help people that struggle with depression. If you or someone you love has depression, don't pass this work up. I want to help because each person deserves to be happy.
1. Chapter 1

**To the people with depression:**  
You may think no one cares, you may think no one understands, you may think that being in the darkness is easier. But let me tell you something; I get it. I get wanting everyone to leave you alone, but also desperately wanting someone to reach out and help you. I get wanting to end it all, to finally be able to rest. I get wanting to cry constantly, even if you're so numb to the world that you're unable to cry. I get saying "I'm fine, don't worry." while feeling yourself break apart piece by crumbling piece. I get wanting someone to see in your eyes that you aren't fine, and that you're so lost and broken that it doesn't seem like there's anything you can do. I get feeling like you're alone, I get feeling like nobody would care if you just disappeared. I get what bullying does to you, even when you try to pretend like you don't care. I understand what having a broken family feels like. I get falling asleep at the end of the day, not because you want to, but because you've stayed up for days on end without rest, or because you're body has lost too much blood, or because you tried to overdose on anything you could find in the medicine cabinet. I understand feeling like the times when you're locked away in your own room or asleep are the only times you could ever dare to let your emotions show. I get cracking depression jokes in the middle of class or to your friends because it's the only way you ask for help. I get laughing when someone who has an amazing life says that a certain class gives them depression. I get withdrawing from your friends because being with them will only cause them pain. I even get throwing yourself into your friendships so nobody worries about you. I understand silently crying when you're alone, I get wailing loudly when the house is empty, wishing that someone cared. Hell, I get wishing that your friends would just yell and scream or just leave you alone because you feel unworthy of their friendship. I even get not having friends to laugh and joke around with. I understand feeling so much inside that you don't dare share with others that it physically hurts. I understand crying in front of people because the pain haunts you constantly, but then coming up with a bullshit excuse, hoping they'll leave you alone, but also wishing that someone would give you a hug. I get going to the bathroom in the middle of class so that you can silently break apart a little bit more before attempting to look like nothing's wrong. I get going to the bathroom to cover up the evidence of how broken you are. I get lying to others; teachers, parents, and friends because they shouldn't have to deal with something that isn't their fault. I get the slipping grades, the lectures from parents about how you aren't trying, I get feeling like you aren't good enough. I get the pressure parents putting on your shoulders weighing you down even more than you already are, I get feeling unworthy of things. I get wanting to die, but not wanting those that care about you to be sad, I get wanting to die, but being afraid of death.  
I get looking in the mirror in the morning and not recognizing the person that looks back at you. I get starving yourself hoping that nobody will question it, but I also get binge eating because you just want to eat your feelings away. I get wearing hoodies and sweats, even in the summer because they hide how damaged your body is. I get never talking to people outside of school because you just want to be alone. I get drinking, smoking, or getting high so for just for a while you can ignore reality. I get being willing to do anything for the pain to go away. I get smiling when you your significant other breaks up with you, I get pretending like you're a super happy person so that nobody questions what goes on behind closed doors. I get toying with death because you're not sure whether you're brave enough to actually take your own life. I get waking up in the hospital, tears streaming down your face because you can't even have death. I get crying because after a few weeks of worrying, people stop asking "Are you okay?" even though you so clearly aren't okay. I get wishing that someone would come along and call you out on your bullshit, that someone would come along and give you a reason to keep fighting, to keep existing. I get not being able to speak up because of one reason or another. I get wishing that someone cared enough to notice anything. I'm not saying depression is the same with every person, but if any of theaboe symptoms are yours, I GET IT.  
But please, I love you all. I'm willing to listen, I'm willing to let you cry on my shoulder, I'm willing to do anything and everything I can to help you. I'm willing to listen to rants, to try to comfort you, to try to do anything to help you. Even if you want to share your suicide notewith me, I'm willing to listen. If you really want to die, I'm willing to listen, andto try to be that person that gives you a reason to go on. I have tried to take my own life over ten times in the past three years. I understand how it feels to have hit rock bottom. I get having something interfering. I get having scars, whether they're physical, mental, or emotional, I get it. I get being so shattered you feel like there's nothing that can be done so you're whole again. If you need me, I will be here. If you need someone to just read what you have to say, or for someone to tell you about why they're depressed, I'm willing to do just that. I'm still depressed, don't get me wrong, but I'm in a better place that I was a few months ago. If you need me to tell you stories about something amazing that I've wittnessed that gave me hope for humanity, come to me. If you need someone to shower you in love because others in your life can't see that that's what you need, I'll talk to you, then tell you what I love from what you've talked to me about. Even if you just want to tell me your name so you aren't forgotten if you choose to end your life, I will listen, I will memorize it, I will cry for you, and I will pray to any higher power that may exist that you have happiness in any afterlife that may exist. You want to tell me your troubles because people don't believe you're depressed? I will listen. I will do anything in my power to help you because I believe that nobody should have to suffer in silence. You want to tell me about how you're part of the LGBTQ+ community, but your family or the others in your life won't support you? I will listen, andI will support you. If you're reading this but you're friends with someone who may be depressed, pay attention to them, listen to them, comfort them, give them a reason to be happy. Give them small little gifts, show that you care, if they think they're ugly or useless, give them reasons why they're beautiful and useful. Even a "I'm here if you need me." can make a world of difference. It's okay if you didn't notice that they're depressed, just make sure to stay by their side.


	2. Chapter 2

I probably won't post this, just because I don't want to seem needy or like I'm begging for attention, but God, it hurts. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry, but I can't. The tears just won't come, but the anxiety and the need to prove myself to everyone does. I thought I was getting better, but I guess not. I thought I could help others, but I guess I'm just as useless as ever. I don't know what I'm doing, and that scares me, a lot. I want to disappear so _badly it hurts_. I want to die so that others will just forget I exist and move on with their lives. I want to just because another one of over seventy billion dead bodies, because it just seems like it'd be so much easier. I want to die, but I also want someone to notice that I'm shattering apart, and give me a hug and say; "I know you're not okay" when I say those two words that mean nothing to me anymore: I'm fine.

God, I should be crying because I wrote a suicide note that I could put in my room, ready to be found after I'm gone, but I can't. The tears aren't there, they aren't blurring my vision, and thy aren't stuffing up my nose and making my eyes swell up and turn red. Sometimes, I feel so alien. I hardly every cry, and while I _do_ feel emotions, I just feel empty the majority of the time. In books and movies when someone's depressed or sad, they cry, or scream, or rant, so why don't I? I just break apart a little more inside, but hide it using jokes that are so stupid, you can't help but laugh. I don't feel sad, I just feel numb, which scares me even more that tears do. Each time I wake up after an attempt on my life, I feel so dead, like there's nothing left to kill, like I'm so dead inside, there's no way for my body to shut down from overdosing on enough medicine that a normal person probably would've ended up in the hospital.

Why me? Why do I have to deal with the constant thoughts of self harm and of dying? Why do _I_ have to deal with saying "I'm fine", while mentally begging someone to look at me and realize that I'm not, that I'm so far from fine that it would take several life times to become "fine"? Why couldn't I have a father, a man to hold me when I was younger, a man to threaten to beat up my boyfriend or girlfriend if they hurt me? Why is it me that comes from a family where teenage pregnancy, drug addiction, and broken relationships between parent and child are the norm? Why can't I be happy? I have friends, I have a loving adoptive mom that used to be my second cousin, so why? Why do I want to be selfish and take my own life? Why do I want to just sleep forever? Why? Oh yeah. Because I'm a living piece of hell. I just take and take and take without any concern for others.

The voices in my head are a constant chorus of negative thoughts, a choir that never stops to rest.

I starve myself for days, binge eat crap food, try to hang myself, try to drown myself, try to fucking _overdose_ , and nothing. Not that I'm lucky to get the sweet release of death.

I try so damn _hard_ in both school and socializing, trying to live up to my mom's expectations, but at the end of the day, I'm just me. Sad, pathetic, me who rants on a fucking fanfiction sight because there's no way else I can think to express the overwhelming pain I'm in.

Sure, I know what it would be cool to do in the future, but I can't even image myself living past 2019, much less living to graduate from college, to live long enough to move in with friends in one giant house. I can't image getting a pet, having a family, finding the person I want to spend my life with, or even adopting children. It's just not there.

I don't know what to do anymore. Sometimes, it's not so much that I want to die, more like I just don't want to live, but the majority of the time, I don't want to live. Living is such a pain, and for me to continue existing just seems like a huge waste of not only my time, but other peoples' as well. God, nobody'll read this, so what the hell does it matter if I post it?

Every time I say "God, kill me" or "I'd jump off the roof, if I could find my way up to it" I really mean it. Every time I make "jokes" about how bad my depression is, I'm not joking. Every time I say "I want to cry right now", I really mean "I want to cry, but the tears just won't come." When I dramatically beg for any higher power that may exist to end my pitiful existence, I'm really begging for someone, anyone, to kill me or help me kill myself. Every time I joke about launching myself out of a window three stories up, I'm begging for a way to die, or for someone to notice how much pain I'm in because I don't know what to do. Whenever I pretend to be a dumb blond, I'm really scolding myself for being a dumbass who'll never amount to anything. When I joke about my nickname as the "Blond Emo", I'm really begging my friends to notice my scars. No, not my physical scars, my emotional ones. Those three cuts my cat gave me? I gave them to myself, because I hoped a combination of prescribed drugs, blood, hot water, and something to help me fall asleep would let me finally get the kiss of death I've wished for since I was nine.

Those times I hung out with my friends at the bus stop, hoping they'd notice how quiet I was? Nothing. Those days I hoped one of my friends would text or call me to ask to hang out, but knowing deep within nothing would happen? Everyday I have off from school. Wanting to talk to a friend, but they're talking to someone else? Happens to me all the time.

Everyday is spent hoping someone, anyone, would notice what happened to the little blond girl that had wanted to be a lawyer or a social worker, but also wishing that nobody would notice, because that means I'm truly alone, and that nobody will care when I get lucky and finally succeed in my pursuit of death.

It sounds stupid to most, but I probably wouldn't be so broken if I had a dad. My birth father walked out on my birth mom because she was simply a drug induced one night stand, so there's no way to identify who he is, but I always hoped, always dreamed of growing up with a nice father figure in my life. One that loved me and my adoptive mom more than I could possibly image. I always wanted a dad, someone to teach me to ride a bike, to play sports with me, to take me to work with him and tell me all about what he did for a living. But no. My mom dated men, sure, but they were never emotionally stable or compatible with her, so they each ended after a few years. But, each time, I foolishly hoped that this one was the one that would make my mom happy, that would help heal my broken heart and shattered spirit.

I try to be independent, but I can't. I just can't live life without the help of others. It makes me feel shitty though, because that means that I impact people's lives without meaning to.

Ah, after God knows how long of writing depressing shit, my vision is finally blurring with tears, though they're disappearing again, as if they never existed in the first place.

...I don't care anymore. I don't care about anything that won't make the pain go away. I might still update, and I'll pretend like I'm okay, but it's all just a lie. It always is.


End file.
